Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.
Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.
Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
“Who'll beyond the hills away?”
Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough to sleep.
Reveille
A. E. Housman
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Poem topics: away, beach, breath, heart, journey, night, silver, sky, sleep, time, together, shadow, play, hear, beacon, morning, rover, floor, slumber, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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Dawn Matsui: My father used to perform this very animatedly to me some morning(s) I did not want to get out of bed. At the time, I groaned. Too loud dad, let me sleep a little longer! But now it is a special memory.
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